


Take a little walk to the edge of town

by NarrowJungle884



Category: Original Work
Genre: Horror, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by the works of Hp lovecraft, My First AO3 Post, Mystery, demons or some shit like that, 🤷♀️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarrowJungle884/pseuds/NarrowJungle884
Summary: Ah yesSo this is my first piece of writing I’ve ever published on the internetThis started out as a piece of Homework for my senior year English writing class but I loved the way it turned out so much I decided to create this account in order to share it with othersIn all honesty I don’t really except anyone to actually read this, but to those few who doI do hope you enjoyPlease be nice
Kudos: 2





	Take a little walk to the edge of town

There's something surreal about the streets at night. During the day, They're full of life and the hustle and bustle of hundreds of people going about their day. But at night it's different, they are lonely and desolate. Pools of light periodically lit by street lamps with dark oceans of black between them. Clusters of nocturnal insects buzzing like tiny electric tools making for the only living company.  
The occasional rustle from the roadside bushes, the unseen eyes of a nighttime predator watching in wait for the perfect time to make its strike.  
I however made no sound, say for the crunch of my boots on the gravel. I didn't like traveling in the late hours but in circumstances like this, traveling in the dark was the safest option.

The letter had arrived a week prior. It was the most recent and last in a long series delivered between me and a certain powerful individual who could assist me and so eventually we had decided that after many lengthy months of communications that we would finally meet for the first time.

Firstly, I had met up with a mutual correspondent that would deliver our messages back and forth. This Correspondent was an old university friend of mine who had dropped out of our first-year political science course to study esoteric lore. At first, I had objected to his sudden change in career aspirations as the course was not cheap and at this stage, a refund would be impossible but he had stood his ground and moved to accommodate shortly after.

I had not seen him for a good many years after that, I had graduated, found a job working in the local council but now I had my eyes set on greater prospects. I was looking for the highest position in my town, the mayoral role, but it was safe to say that my campaign a complete and utter disaster, I had tried every possible means to turn the election back in my favor but none had worked and with only a few short weeks to go until the votes were to be cast I was getting desperate. 

About a month or so back I got back into contact with my old university friend, he was now a professor teaching the niche subject of regional supernatural folklore. After a lengthy phone call filled with reminiscing, I brought up my failing campaign and asked him if he knew anything or anyone that could bring me the win and he said that he knew somebody who could.

In the early afternoon, I took a train out to the far edges of the city, to the edges of the hinterlands where I set off on foot, down the gravel country road. As the afternoon turned to dusk and then to evening I saw fewer and fewer people until I was the lone human in the strange and lonely countryside 

Suddenly I felt the need to stop. Some instinct told me that I needed to. I had finally reached a break in the dense line of trees that covered the right-hand side of the road. I had reached my destination. A wrought-iron gate hanging half-open as if it was waiting for me. I peered down at the brick columns holding the gates, a grimy metal plate reading ‘94’ was screwed into the brickwork. This was the right place. Silently I slipped through the gate and found myself at the start of a long gravel path that led down a large yard leading up to an enormous, dilapidated gothic mansion, its sleek black tiled roof reflecting moonlight down, illuminating my surroundings in a ghostly blue glow. An orchard of trees, long dead, populated most of the yard, their long twisted branches reaching up towards the pitch-black sky like the arms of the dead rising from their graves, a blanket of thin grey mist swirled around their exposed roots.  
I took a deep breath and set off down the gravel path towards the house. As I walked one thing became apparently clear. It was quiet, far too quiet. The bugs and all other nighttime creatures had ceased their chatter, not even the gravel crunched beneath my boots. The eeriness sent chills down my spine but I continued on.  
After what seemed like an eternity of walking through that damned yard I came to the steps that led up onto the porch, they were made of wood, the planks heavily rotted and worm-eaten and creaked dangerously when I took my first step onto them. The porch itself was completely vacant, not a single piece of decor or furniture. With nothing else to do, I walked straight for the grand oak door and grabbed the handle. The door was unlocked and swung in easily, Breathing deeply I stepped into the black hole, the door quietly swinging closed behind me. 

I had come into a small entryway, the musty smell of disturbed dust heavy in the air. It was far too dark to see anything but I thought I could make out a hallway stretching out in front of me, and it was for the first time, standing in the entryway that horrid, decrepit house that I really thought about what I was doing. I had let a complete stranger lead me to an abandoned mansion in the middle of only God knows in the middle of the night based on the word of someone I hadn't seen since my first year of university. It was utter madness. 

I turned to leave, the prospect of me winning a local election was not worth possibly dying in this rotting wooden tomb. My hand was inches from the ornate brass door handle when the air changed. The smell of dust and old timbers was gone and something far worse had come in to fill the void that it had left. The best way I could describe this new smell as if something had fallen into a recently active volcano and died. The putrid smell of sulfur mixed with the overpowering stench of rotting flesh. It truly was the worst thing that I had ever smelled but it had the effect of wiping any doubts from my mind. I really needed to get out of here. I grabbed to handle, jiggling it furiously. Locked. But how?. I pulled harder but the door didn't even move like it had become a painted accessory on the wall, I was trapped.  
A new sound cut through my struggling at the door, A creak on the floorboards. I stopped and turned back towards the hall, sharp chills running up my spine. I peered into the gloom, but it was too dark. Then there was another creak and then another and then another and what I saw enter my field of view was the most bone-chilling, nerve destroying thing I had ever seen in my life. It was a human silhouette at first glance but it was all wrong, distorted in all-natural ways. For a start it was tall, far too tall, that mixed with the figures thin, gangly limbs didn't help. Next was the silhouettes movements as it came towards me, the motions were too smooth to be natural, almost like floating or gliding. I spun back around to the door more desperate than ever to escape from this nightmare. 

The hall was suddenly bathed in the dim glow of electric light, ‘There's no use in trying to escape Mr. Eastwood, you can't leave until I want you too’. A low voice, female by the sound of it, a vaguely foreign accent, somewhat musical like a bass flute playing a sad song.

Reluctantly, I let go of the doorknob, I had to face whatever the thing in the hallway was, I could no longer hear the sound of its feet on the floorboards. I turned slowly  
It (or she?) had indeed stopped approaching me and was now idly leaning on the door frame that separated the entryway from the main hall. Neither of us spoke, Using the brief moment of silence I closely studied the person who stood before me, looking her up and down.  
The first thing I noticed was the woman’s height, I initially thought that the darkness of the hall and my fear addled brain had warped her proportions but that was not the case, she towered over my own relatively modest height, I easily guessed that she was at least eight feet tall.  
I looked up at the great height towards her face. I suppose the best way to describe it would be “classically beautiful” like an actress from the golden age of cinema but one who had not eaten for quite a while, a gaunt, sickliness that pulled away from the beauty. Her short hair, the colour of Marmalade, was uneven, either she cut it herself or the barber she visited was very bad at their job. I moved down past her face, no longer wanting to look. Her clothing was something else entirely, she was dressed very formally, a black tartan waistcoat over a silken red wine coloured shirt and charcoal black slacks but oddly enough, no shoes or socks.  
She then smiled at me, thin lips pulling back to reveal slightly yellow and oddly sharp teeth, the smile didn’t look natural on that face and it sent another shiver down my spine. She raised a hand, a typical friendly gesture, it was with this gesture that I noticed, with disgust, that she had 6 fingers on that hand, each long pale finger ending in a shiny Ebony black talon or claw.  
“Welcome to my house Mr. Eastwood, I have been eagerly waiting to meet you”, her tone was casual, almost friendly but I was too shocked by what was standing in front of me that I simply couldn’t utter a word.  
“You may call me..” she paused “Ignatia…Carmody, yes, Mrs. Carmody, That works for now”

I remained silent 

“What’s wrong, I thought that you political types were supposed to be good at speaking, well anyways please come to my office, we have much to discuss” and with this, she turned on her heel, ducked under the door frame, and set off down the hall beckoning for me to follow.  
And I did.

End.


End file.
